Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
ivy
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can…”
I sat in my chair, my eyes scanning the room from left to right, watching mouths move in unison and voices echo around me as a group of strangers recited the Serenity Prayer they clearly said together often.
“…and the wisdom to know the difference…”
Leaning back into the chair, I listened, feeling distinctly out of my element.
I was here—in the basement of a Brooklyn bookstore—because a former colleague swore it could help me.
During one of my emotional breakdowns that were occurring more frequently these days, I had shared with her how overwhelmed I was. Ideas about the future consumed me, and I had no one to confide in since Kendra passed.
“Have you ever heard of Rylee Daniels?” Jayme, my colleague, asked when we met for coffee. I needed to get out of Greene Gardens for a day, so I left Baby Love with the nanny.
“She was Lennox Walker’s best friend,” she continued.
My brows shot up. “The Bronx Baller who passed away?”
“Mm-hmm.” Jayme sipped her coffee. “They had two children together. One before he passed and another shortly after.”
“Wait.” I sat up straighter. “So they were together?”
“No.” She giggled. “Their story is… unique.”
“Hmph.” I cradled my paper cup of coffee. If their friendship-turned-parenting arrangement was unique, it sounded far too familiar.
“Anyway,” Jayme said, “Rylee started a support group in Brooklyn for people who’ve lost spouses or partners. It’s grief counseling or something.”
I tilted my head.
“Even though Kendra wasn’t your spouse or partner,” she added with a small smile, “I think the group could help.”
I hadn’t believed it would, but after my first meeting, I felt slightly differently.
The room was full of people grieving lost loved ones—partners, spouses, soulmates. While Kendra and I were as close as sisters, I didn’t think my situation aligned with anyone else’s here… except Rylee’s.
After Jayme told me about her and Lennox, I’d looked Rylee up. Jayme was right—their story was unique. It also hit close to home. So, I came to the group. Even if I didn’t quite fit the target audience, I needed help, and as my mother reminded me, I had to keep reaching out.
“What do you think about this blouse?” my mother asked, holding up a lime-green silk shirt. “I have so many things I can pair this with.”
I’d spent the day with her after calling a car service to visit the city. I’d brought Baby Love along and met up with Leo first to drop him off at Leo’s loft for the night.
It was the first time Baby Love would be staying alone with Leo, and I was on edge about it.
Though Leo had improved with all the baby care stuff that had initially intimidated us both, I couldn’t shake my nerves. But my mother had convinced me to stop being a helicopter guardian. “Leo’s his guardian, too,” she said, with her usual directness.
Still, it was hard to focus while shopping with her.
“Ivy?” she called.
“Huh?” I turned to face her.
“The shirt.” She held up the blouse again. “What do you think?”
“It’s bright and loud,” I replied. “It’s too much.”
She smirked. “So, you hate it?”
“Very much,” I said.
“Perfect.” Her smirk turned into a broad smile. “I’m getting it, then.”
I snorted a laugh.
My mother and I were night and day. Her interests couldn’t have been further from mine. I swore her free-spirited nature was the reason I craved order and clung to it, trying to avoid being too much like her.
And yet, since becoming Baby Love’s guardian, I’d been feeling what I imagined she’d felt as a single mother.
Growing up, it was just my mother and me.
My father was never really in the picture; he and my mom never married, ending their relationship soon after I was born.
Over the years, he faded into a distant memory I hardly recalled.
I can’t say I knew him, not really. After all, there’s not much to know about someone who’s more a shadow than a substance in your life.
We’ve had no contact for years, and while sometimes I wonder about the ‘what ifs,’ I’ve come to terms with the quiet space he occupies in my past. My mother filled our lives with enough love and strength for two parents, shaping me into who I am without his influence.
Plus, my maternal grandfather when he was alive was the perfect substitute.
“Why are you so distracted, anyway?” she asked, moving through racks of clothes.
We were in her favorite discount department store. She loved scouring clearance racks, searching for deals that looked far more expensive than their price tags.
I hated these places. Something about the clutter of stuff jammed together on racks gave me low-level anxiety.
“I’m not distracted, Mommy. I’m scared.”
She stopped sliding hangers on the clothing rod to give me her full attention.
“Is this about you leaving the baby with Leo today?” my mother asked, her tone soft but probing. “Because I’m sure he’s more than capable, Ivy.”
“It’s not just that.” I sighed, leaning against one of the clothing racks for support.
“I’m scared for the baby’s future. He doesn’t even have a name.
He’s almost four months old. If Leo and I can’t work together to come up with something as simple as a name for this child, how are we supposed to work together to raise him into a well-rounded adult? ”
My mother stared at me for a moment before bursting into laughter.
I straightened, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “Oh, I’m so glad my existential crisis is funny to you.”
She held up a hand, still giggling as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am.”
“Mm-hmm.” My tone was flat, though the corner of my mouth twitched. “And I really am happy to be your personal comedy hour.”
“It’s just…” She took another deep breath, finally composing herself.
“This is so you. You’d let something like this weigh you down when you’re already doing so much right.
” She reached out, brushing my cheek with her warm hand.
“Ivy, listen to me. You have an excellent support system. You’ve got the baby’s grandparents, Leo’s mother, and me. You are not doing this alone.”
I sighed, the weight of her words making me feel both comforted and uneasy.
“You are never really alone, as long as you keep reaching out,” she continued, her thumb brushing my cheek before her hand dropped away.
She turned back to the clothing rack, sliding hangers along the metal bar with determination.
“You’ve got to get in the habit of asking for help.
Stop expecting to do everything by yourself. It really does take a village.”
We fell into a brief silence, and I tried to let her words sink in. But instead, the truth burst out before I could stop myself. “Leo and I slept together.”
She froze mid-reach, slowly turning her head to stare at me.
“Twice,” I added, my voice barely above a whisper. “It was probably why he moved back to his loft.”
My mother blinked, her eyes wide. “Oh.”
“And now he’s been liking all my pictures on social media,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice, “but barely says two words to me when we’re face-to-face. Like earlier, when I handed the baby off to him.”
Her jaw dropped slightly, and she looked around, as if needing to confirm she’d heard me right. “Oh.”
“It was a mistake,” I admitted, shaking my head. “I’ve resolved to forgive myself for it. We aren’t in a good place since he moved out, but honestly, it’s probably for the best.”
“Hmph.” She tilted her head, giving me that knowing look she’s perfected over the years. “Well, I like him.”
I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “Mommy, please.”
“He’s handsome and very successful,” she said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “And single. And handsome. Did I mention he’s handsome?”
“It’s not happening again,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “So don’t even start.”
She smiled, turning back to the rack with a shrug. “Okay… if you say so.”
“I do say so,” I insisted.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Anyway,” I said, trying to steer the conversation away, “what happened between us is what’s got me feeling so unsure. How can I handle being a single parent—or guardian—or whatever—if I’m already this thrown off?”
“You’ve got a village,” she reminded me, her tone softening.
“It’s not going to be easy. But life never is.
There are mountains and valleys, Ivy. It’s your perspective that makes the difference.
How you choose to travel those paths is what separates the happy from the sad.
” She turned to face me fully. “You are never alone, as long as you keep reaching out.”
Encouraged by her words, I found the strength to approach Rylee after the group session.
She was a joy to watch, gracefully engaging with everyone who came up to her. I’d heard from others that there was usually a therapist leading the group, but today, Rylee seemed to take on that role effortlessly. Her presence was warm and inviting.
As she gathered a stack of loose papers from the table, I cleared my throat. “Hey—hi, Rylee.”
She looked up, and a smile spread across her face. “Hey, Ivy.”
I gasped softly, surprised she knew my name. “Oh! How… how do you—”
She turned the papers in her hand to show me. “You signed in when you got here. I know everyone else’s name on this list since they’re regulars. Yours was the only new one. And since you didn’t say much during the meeting, I figured you had to be Ivy.”
I laughed, impressed. “Very observant.”
“Oh, girl.” She giggled, tucking the papers under her arm. “I try. So, how was your first meeting with us today?”
“It was good.” I nodded, meaning it. “You’ve created an environment that feels really safe.”
That last word came out as a tremble as a sudden wave of emotions hit me.
Rylee immediately noticed, placing the stack of papers back on the table. “Oh, Ivy, are you okay?”